


Tattoos And Roses

by like_a_stray (orphan_account)



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: M/M, Rewrite, florist/tattoo artist
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-20
Updated: 2018-07-16
Packaged: 2019-05-26 05:16:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14993603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/like_a_stray
Summary: Gerard is recently out of art school and working at his family's flower shop while in search for a job involving artwork. Frank is a tattoo artist who might be exactly what Gerard has been looking for.





	1. Chapter One

❀Gerard's POV❀

I hissed in pain as I cut the tip of my finger on the sharp scissors I was using to cut some pansies, bringing it up to my mouth and attempting to stop the small amount of blood from getting on the flowers. I knew it was unsanitary and gross but I couldn't do anything wearing gloves, so I cut the last flower and turned to the sink, rinsing blood from my cut and feeling around on the shelf above for the box of band-aids I kept there. 

After I had cleaned and bandaged my finger, I went back to the pansies, moving the small flowers onto a paper towel. A small packet of flower food powder was laying next to the glass vase I had filled with water, and I quickly measured out the right amount and sprinkled it in. 

Pansies are delicate flowers and I tried to be as gentle as possible with them, carefully cradling them in my hands and placing them in the vase. 

It was pretty late, almost 8:30 at night. I was going to finish up this arrangement before closing my shop up.

I stood back and admired it for a moment before wiping my slightly wet hands on my white jeans, jumping as a loud scream came from outside.

"Fuck you!"

There was a tattoo shop that had opened right next to my flower shop and the people there were the most annoying things. They always screamed and fought in the alley between our shops.

I walked over to the window, moving the sheer white curtains aside for a moment and looking outside. There was a tall man with tattoos trailing up his arms pinning a smaller man against the wall of the tattoo shop. The small man kicked the taller one in between his legs and I winced.

The taller man leaned down, holding his crotch and the small man jerked his knee into the nose of the other man and I saw blood splatter the small man's jeans.

  He glanced up at me and caught my eye, smirking. 

Blood rushed to my face and I felt hot, pushing the curtain back into place and rushing off behind the counter again.

Okay, then.

I decided to close after that, placing the vase near a window before checking over the flowers I had prepared earlier. 

I went back to the counter to gather my phone, wallet, and sketchbook when the small bell on the door rang.

"You into watchin' fights?" I heard.

I swallowed nervously, turning around to see the tattooed man who had grinned at me before through the window.

"N-no, but you were fighting right next to here. I wanted to make sure no one got hurt or one of my windows got broken," I explained softly, taking in the man's appearance.

He was shorter than me by a few inches, wearing a tight-fitting gray t-shirt and black ripped jeans. He had a dark bruise on his jaw and his arms and hands were covered in tattoos. His feet were clad in a pair of beat-up Doc Martens with bright red laces.

His hair was dark and messy, and he had a nose ring in his left nostril. 

He grinned up at me, the corners of his eyes crinkling slightly. "Mhm, sure. Someone always gets hurt during fights. What were you gonna do, run out there and give 'em an ice pack? Give 'em a box of," He giggled, staring down at my bandaged finger. "Pink bandaids?"

"Well, I don't know... I don't like seeing people in pain." I replied, looking at the floor.

"That's cute," The man mocked.

"You shouldn't fight people." I whimpered, staring at his bruised jaw.

He sighed, giving me a soft look.

"That's how the world works, sweetheart." The pet name was, once again, in a mocking tone. "People are assholes and I beat them up."

"Why? You can just talk to them." I reasoned, my gaze flicking to the blood on his jeans.

"You're so soft." He murmured, putting his hands in the pockets of his jeans. "Flowers. It's cute." He gestured around my shop, his eyes catching the pansies I had just put into the vase.

"Those are nice."

He sounded more sincere, taking a few steps closer to me, the sound of the heels of his boots echoing slightly in the small shop.

"Stay safe, hon." He said. "Wouldn't want a little flower like you getting hurt."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! So I'm rewriting this because I don't enjoy how the original was written and the storyline kind of spiraled out of control. The characters are going to be a lot different, and the actual story is going to be much shorter than the original. It's Black Parade Era Frank instead of Revenge, and Gerard's character is still the 2007, long black hair Era. If you're interested in having the original version, it's orphaned on AO3.


	2. Chapter 2

❀Frank's POV❀

"Bitch," I growled, pressing the cold pack a little harder against my jaw where the guy I fought before had hit me.

"Motherfucking bitch. Fuck." I pulled it away for a moment, inspecting the bruise. It had turned a darker shade of brown, with purple, red, and blue lining the edges.

I grunted, "Ew," before pressing the pack against it again. The other guy had it worse, though. I had kneed him pretty hard in the dick  _and_  in the nose.

The asshole deserved it though.

I was a little violent ball of energy, taking out my anger and frustration out on other people but it came in handy sometimes. I could beat people up when they deserved it.

"Maybe if you didn't, y'know, get into fights all the time, you wouldn't have bruises and shit." My roommate, James, said, poking his head in our bathroom.

I flip him off angrily, grunting at him in my usual annoyed manner.

"You seem less violent than usual after a fight. Did something happen?" He asked, looking confused.

"What do you mean by 'less violent?' I'm always like this." I answered.

"Nah. You usually like, punch walls and kick me and shit like that. You seem calmer." He replied. "What happened?"

"Nothing happened." I huffed.

"Jesus Christ, scratch the whole 'not being in a bad mood' thing." He said before leaving.

❀

"Look, kid. We don't have any positions open right now, but if you give me your phone number, I can call you when one opens up. 'Kay?" I told a kid who looked no older than seventeen who was looking for a job at my tattoo parlor.

He dropped his head sadly and nodded. I opened my laptop, ready to copy the kid's number down.

He gave me the string of numbers and I sent him on his way with a cigarette and a promise that I would call.

"Iero, I'm sending someone back!" I heard someone yell from the front of the shop. A few minutes later, a young woman came into my section. I stood up and went to the sink to wash my hands before putting black gloves on. "Do you have a latex allergy?" I asked, regarding the gloves.

We discussed what she wanted for a few minutes and I started to sketch out her tattoo.

"Yeah, that looks great." The woman, Saige, she said her name was, said, grinning once I was done. "Alright. So first, I'm gonna disinfect the area, shave it, and then I have to put a gel on it so that the design transfers." I informed her.

She took her shirt off and I waited for her to lay on the large lounge chair so that I could clean her shoulderblade. "This is gonna be cold," I warned before rubbing over her skin with a skin disinfectant wipe and then rubbing shaving cream over the area. I grabbed a razor off of the table and began to shave the patch of skin I was going to be tattooing.

After I had removed all the hair, I wiped away the remaining shaving cream and disinfected it again before rubbing the gel in.

I pressed the paper down and held it there for a few moments, waiting for the design to transfer onto her skin.

❀

Three and a half hours later, I had finished tattooing a cat onto her shoulderblade. I was really proud of it, surprisingly, because I didn't usually tattoo animals.

"Can I take a picture to put on my Instagram?" I asked, my hand falling to my pocket where my phone was.

"Sure. It looks fucking amazing. Thank you so much." She said, smiling.

"No problem," I replied, pulling my phone out and taking a few pictures of the tattoo.

"I have to wrap it, and when you go to pay you'll get a free tube of cream to put on it to help it heal faster. I suggest keeping it wrapped for at least two hours and try to stay out of the sun with it. After you wash it, let it dry for fifteen minutes before putting the cream on it and wrap it at night for the next three to five days." I said. She nodded and let me wrap her tattoo in cling film.

Once we had finished discussing the price, she had given me my tip and I sent her back to the front desk.

After the shop had closed up I was free to go, and I decided to swing by the small flower shop next to the parlor. My mom's birthday was in a few days and I wanted to get her flowers. The florist who worked at the shop was really good at what he did. I had seen a few of his arrangements when I had gone in the day before.

I walked into the shop, trying not to smile when I heard the bell on the door jingle. The walls were painted a very light pink, almost white, and the floor had white tiles. There were those gold Christmas lights strung up in the rafters on the ceiling, giving the whole room a soft golden glow.

The shop was very fitting for the boy behind the counter, who I had always seen wearing sweaters, pastel colored jeans, and flower crowns.

I looked up at the counter and there he was, wearing one of his cute sweaters. The one he had on today was a soft blue with darker stripes. He appeared to be reading something, his head facing the counter, causing his dark hair to fall in his face.

He didn't seem to notice that I had come in, probably lost in whatever he was reading, so I cleared my throat to make my presence known.

He looked up almost instantly, his cheeks flushing a bright shade of pink.

"Hi," he said, his voice cracking. His cheeks turned brighter and he looked up at me.

"Hey. Do you have roses here?" I asked and his large eyes lit up.

This boy was just too cute.

"Y-yeah! Do you know what color you would want?" He asked, giving me a small smile.

"I don't really know like, the meanings of colors and all that shit, and I don't want to give my mom flowers that mean 'rest in peace' or 'let's get married' or something. Her birthday's coming up." I answered and he giggled.

"Well, red roses stand for love... uh, yellow stands for happiness... maybe a combination of those?" He asked.

"You're the expert," I said, only half-teasing.

He giggled again, his cheeks and nose turning red.

"I g-guess... anyway, I can have that arrangement done by tomorrow. Business has been slow lately..." He trailed off, suddenly looking upset.

"Hey, I only had two clients today. It's because that bridge is closed. People have to go around this entire street. Things have been slow for me, too, but it's okay." I replied, not liking seeing the boy sad.

He smiled at me, showing off his small, cute teeth, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

"So, uh, name?" He asked softly, pulling out a small leather notebook.

"Frank Iero," I replied.

He scrawled something onto a page before his eyebrows pulled together, confused.

"Can you spell that for me?"

"Sure. It's I-E-R-O."

"Okay. Um, sometimes my brother covers for my shift when I take breaks, so when you come tomorrow, can you ask for Gerard if I'm not here?" He asked.

"Yeah."

Gerard suited him perfectly.

"So is eleven roses okay? And you only want roses, right?" He questioned.

"Yes and yes."

He scribbled something down onto the notebook again, biting his lip softly in concentration.

"Alright, you're all set. You can swing by at, uh..." he frantically flipped through the notebook, stopping on a different page.

"Is 3:00 good?" He looked up at me again, tilting his head.

"Yeah, three's good. I'll see you then, Gerard." I said, smiling at him. He blushed again, pulling his lower lip between his teeth to hide a grin and playing with his hands. The sweater he had on was massive, the hole for the neck being far too big and dipping down to expose his collarbones. The sleeves were too long as well, coming down to cover most of his hands.

"Bye." He squeaked, his voice seeming an octave higher than it had been previously.

There was no denying it; this boy was an angel.

 


End file.
